Fear
by OrangeRamen96
Summary: I wrote this up in 15 minutes while I was half-asleep, so please do forgive me for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. Also, if you would like me to stay sane, please do NOT ask my "Why would you write this?" or "OMG! Cry! How could you!", because I will ignore your comment. Characters do NOT belong to me! ChaoticMonki & Pot belong to ChaoticMonki Please Review! It's why I write!


Word Count: 1,083

Pairing: Cry/Pot

Rating: T+ (13+)

Cry woke up in an unknown place, all alone, as he looked around. Fear gripped his heart as he realized he was in the one game that terrified him to no end: Amnesia. He tried to think of how he got there, where he came from, and why he was there, but his mind drew a blank as a huge headache came on.

Cry just sighed and started walking down the corridor. He didn't want to take the chances of some random monster popping out of nowhere and killing him. And he could also use some water. His throat was burning. The masked man continued traversing the halls of the castle, searching rooms, finding tinderboxes, laudanum, oil, sanity potions, and a lantern to help him on his trek. He was still unbelievably lost, though.

Cry kept going, though, and eventually heard some weird sounds. As he got closer to the source, he realized it was a young, brunette man, who looked no older than seventeen. As he got closer to the kid, words started forming in his head 'Hey, you're not that bad,'… 'Help me, P...', 'I love you, Po...', 'No! Pot!' Cry suddenly gasped, gripping his head in pain, as he remembered journeying through Amnesia, finding Pot, and keeping the brown, porcelain container as a comrade and helper.

He realized that the boy was crying, and moved closer, not wanting to startle him, as he said gently, "Pot? Is that you?" he almost wasn't expecting a reply, because the kid practically ignored him.

Soon after that, though, Pot lifted his head to stare at Cry. At first, he couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen the masked man in so long, he thought his mind was playing tricks, until he reached out and touched Cry. The feel of flesh on flesh frightened Pot so much that he jumped away. He didn't want to think about all the things he'd been through... all the ways he'd been touched.

Pot flinched as the memories flooded back. First was his father, beating him senseless, while his mother just left the room, not even caring about her own son's safety. Then was his uncle, as he grabbed Pot and forced him on the bed. He took Pot's innocence that night, and told the young boy that he'd never be pure for anyone, never be good enough. And then, the worst memory of all flooded in... Cry. Cry leaving him. Cry breaking him. Cry throwing, dropping, forgetting, and even hating him.

He shook his head as tears fell. It was too much. He couldn't handle all the memories flooding back. All the pain gripping his heart. A scream ripped out of his throat, as he started gripping his head and slamming it against the wall. He wasn't good enough. He wasn't pure enough. He wasn't smart enough. He would never be loved by anyone.

Cry was shocked and horrified at Pot's actions, and immediately pulled the kid away from the wall, giving him a sanity potion, and two laudanums. Pot stayed still, sobbing into Cry's shirt. The older man just cradled the young one, and whispered sweet nothings to him, "Shh, baby. It's okay, Pot. Calm down, hun."

Pot was shaking, but focused on the sound of Cry's voice, and eventually calmed down. "Cry... I'm sorry. I'm not innocent enough, or strong enough, or smart enough. You should leave me. You lost your memory coming in here, but I can tell you the way out. Go... go down that hallway," Pot said, timidly, whilst pointing to the hallway Cry had entered from, "take a right, and then you can exit this castle through there. Leave me here, Cry. I'm broken. Useless. No one will ever want me. You're too good for-"

Pot was surprised and taken back by the arms tightening around him, and the lips pressing onto his. He soon reacted, though, and kissed back eagerly, his mood changing from forlorn to elated in a matter of seconds. He'd fallen for Cry so fast and so hard, and the kiss made him feel so happy, that he felt tears of joy leak past his eyes. They were soon replaced by tears or sorrow, as his heart dropped realizing that Cry was going to leave, and leave him alone forever. He really wasn't good enough, after all.

Cry pulled back, stroking his hands over Pot's long, brown hair, and moving several pieces from his face. "Pot. I love you, no matter what. And I am so sorry that I hurt you so much, but you are good enough, Pot. You're amazing. And I'm staying with you forever."

Pot was shocked, then ecstatic then downcast yet again, as he realized, "Cry... you can't. We have no food or water here that is consumable for humans, since we do not need it. You're going to end up dehydrating to death, and I can't just sit here and watch you die slowly, Cry. I'd rather kill myself first."

Cry was about to reply that he didn't care, he owed this to Pot, to this kid, whom he loved and wanted to be with, when he was interrupted from his thoughts by a servant grunt. He thought hastily and made up a plan. "Pot, I'm not leaving you. I'll stay here until the end of time, and you'll always have me, even if all you have is my rotting flesh, my dried up eye-balls, my non-functioning organs, and my dry, cracked bones to keep you company. Just... always remember that I love you, okay?"

Pot nodded, not quite sure where Cry was going this, until the masked man ran into the hallway, straight at the bro, and had his throat slit on the first swipe.

And that's how Pot got here, in Cry's rib cage his head laying on the heart that hadn't beaten for months, the bones forming a protective shield around him, and the eyes giving him something to stare at lovingly. He would always tell Cry how he felt, what had happened that day, and how much he loved the man with the mask. Pot laughed at Cry's jokes, kissed Cry back when he was kissed, and even had sex with Cry for the first time comfortably.

He loved Cry, and Cry loved him, even if all that was left of Cry was his rotting flesh, his dried up eye-balls, his non-functioning organs, and his dry, cracked bones to keep Pot company. Pot was content with it all.


End file.
